Toon Time
by Yampie
Summary: '"Dudley," said Harry with amazement, "you got yourself a witch." I grinned.' This story follows one Petunia Lily Dursley throughout the course of her time at Hogwarts. From Sorting to graduation, and a little extra here and there, it's something of a coming of age story - you can expect a little bit of everything.
1. Prologue: In which Toon is a witch

**A/N:** This story is slightly alternate universe, but the changes will not affect most canon. The changes all regard Dudley, especially in his relationship with Harry. In canon, Dudley and Harry are on good enough terms to exchange holiday cards and at times drop by so their kids can play together, but do not keep up correspondence and can't seem to keep up a conversation in person. In addition, while Rowling considered landing Dudley with a magical child, she decided Vernon's blood was too strong. Let me be clear: I support the canon. I am not changing anything because I think this is better, but because it's an interesting what-if. That said, here are the changes I've implemented. Dudley and Harry grow to be very good friends and Dudley gets his head out of his butt. Dudley also has one magical daughter.

Also, this is the first fanfiction I have started in a long, long time, and also my first Harry Potter fanfiction ever.

Yes, this first bit is rather short. As it's a prologue, that is to be expected. That said, please enjoy this story!

Prologue

In which Toon is a witch

Dad's best stories were about Uncle Harry. It wasn't that Dad was good at telling stories – he wasn't. It was just that the stories he had to tell were so astronomically incredible that his stumbling words could be forgiven. The stories ranged from comic ("I'll tell you about the time Harry blew up your Great Aunt Marge, kids.") to terrifying ("You know, that uncle of yours, he saved my life once.") to heroically enthralling ("You won't believe me if I told you, but that man saved the world, too.").

My brothers and I didn't know how much was real. When we were younger, we half-believed his tales of witches and wizards, being children, but the other half of us thought he was only entertaining our imaginations. It wasn't until Uncle Harry visited outside a family reunion, away from Grandmother and Grandfather's apprehensive eyes, that we realized there was much more truth to Dad's stories than we had believed. It started with broomsticks.

The brooms that our Aunt and Uncle and cousins carried didn't look very effective. They were sleek, polished, and didn't look like they'd pick dirt up off of anything. Seeing my strange expression, Harry ruffled my hair and said, "They're not for sweeping, Toony. They're for flying."

It's hard to describe the feeling you get when you realize magic is real and your dad hasn't been yanking your chain all this time. Christmas come early – too cliché. All my dreams come true – not quite that astounding, actually. A good feeling. Definitely a good feeling.

We had gone running out to meet them after the tell-tale crack of sound that I would soon learn meant they had just arrived by Apparition. I don't know why it never clicked until that day that they were arriving places by magic – no car; we never caught them walking up to the house, they always just seemed to be in our front lawn all of a sudden.

Dad came out behind us just as Uncle Harry was ruffling my hair. Looking up, my uncle's face brightened.

"Dudley!" he beamed, embracing my father. Mom was a moment behind; Uncle Harry kissed her cheek and said, "Always a pleasure, Jen."

Aunt Ginny chastised us all. "Get inside, now, most Muggles aren't accustomed to seeing brooms like these." We dutifully obeyed.

Once inside, everyone settled down in the living room. Michael got the cookie jar out of the kitchen and passed it around, managing to lug it between rooms although it was as big as his toddler-sized torso.

"42 Privet Drive," Harry said, smiling. "You've made it look so much different in here. Less linoleum, more wood. I like it."

"Thanks," Dad responded, the pride clear in his voice. "I did a lot of the work myself, instead of hiring anyone."

This was before I was born, before Mom and Dad were even married. I had been told this story as well as all the others countless times; as soon as Dad popped the question and Mom said yes, he decided that the ceremony could not take place until 42 Privet Drive was a house that would suit them. He made it homier.

"Can I see the cupboard under the stairs?"

"Of course, mate. Do you mind, Michael?" Michael shook his head. As an aside to Harry, Dad added, "It's his room you see."

Harry's brows shot up, but Dad waved his hands. "No, no, nothing like you remember. We've done some renovations, and he likes small spaces."

Still looking apprehensive, Harry got up and followed Mom and Dad through the kitchen to the cupboard, Ginny and all of us kids trailing behind. A smile cracked his worry as the door was pulled aside and he saw the bright colors and the well-done paint job, as well as an absence of any spider webs or sawdust. The floor had been carpeted, a light, muted yellow. The bed was carefully crafted, the mattress soft and covered in a quilt Mom made herself. There had been shelves placed over the bed, containing toy soldiers and books. For a room so small, there was plenty of space.

Harry hugged Dad again. "Michael's a lucky little man."

Mom laughed. "We think so too!"

Harry took both their hands in his own. "We're going to take you flying as a thank you."

It was more for our benefit than Mom's or Dad's, as neither looked surprised but rather smiled and nodded. Going back to the living room, Harry and Ginny linked arms with all of us.

"Now, I'm going to need you all to hold very, _very_ tightly onto our arms, okay? We're going to take you to a field where we can fly."

All of a sudden they turned on their heels, and I experienced a very unpleasant sensation of being squeezed through a small space. When I could breathe again and felt solid ground underfoot, I opened my eyes, which had sewn themselves shut in terror. I was indeed in the middle of a field. It wasn't especially remarkable – a clearing of grass circled by forest. I wobbled; unremarkable though the field was, it was also spinning around me in a sickening way.

The Potters looked at us with grins on their faces, and I realized they were probably silently laughing at how we had taken the journey, if you could call it that. "What was that?" I demanded to know, a bit cross.

"Apparition, Toons. It's basically teleportation," said my aunt, Ginny. I was again tickled by the pleasant knowledge that such things really did exist, abating my irritation.

"We've altered the Cushioning Charms on these so that two can sit on a broom. Unfortunately Muggles can't fly one themselves, but they sure can ride along," she continued. To Mom and Dad, she said, "Lily's broom is more of a toy, so Michael should be fine to go along with her. It only gets up about two feet and won't go fast." My parents nodded.

We seemed to be pairing off by age, as Dad ended up with Harry, Mom with Ginny, I with James, my younger brother Matthew with Albus, and the youngest, Michael, with Lily. James grinned roguishly at me as the Potters mounted their brooms. It seemed strange, to see them standing there with brooms between their legs. I wondered how uncomfortable it must be to sit on, but once like the rest of my family I mounted behind my Potter, I found that some invisible force allowed me more support than the stick could have given. I wondered if this was the effect of the Cushioning Charm my aunt had mentioned earlier.

"Hold on tight," James warned me, peering over his shoulder as we watched his father for a signal to kick off. I wrapped my arms around his waist.

Harry said something to Dad, who nodded, and then asked, "Everyone ready?"

"Yes, yes," said Ginny impatiently. "Let's go!"

I nearly fell off the end of the broom, quickly discovering that by tight, James had really meant tight. We had rocketed into the air, over the treetops in seconds, and once I had gotten over the heart-pounding shock of nearly being unseated I was laughing, until I heard Harry shouting.

"James Sirius Potter, you will get back down here where it's safer or I swear by Merlin's saggy left-"

"_Harry_!" scolded Ginny, mindful of Lily and Michael.

He sighed and tipped the broom forward sharply, and we were hurtling downwards, laughter bubbling from my lips as I was taken on the wildest roller coaster of my life. Pulling flat as we began to get close to the ground, James eased us onto our feet. He was quickly accosted by his parents, who pulled him away from his broom and began lecturing him about the dangers of reckless flying when there were two people aboard. I stared at his broom, abandoned on the ground. Before anyone could notice me, I grabbed it and swung a leg over.

I didn't have to think very hard about it – the broom's movements came naturally to me and, with a push of my toes I floated into the air. I wasn't an idiot; I tested the waters carefully, going in a few circles, staying a couple feet above the ground. After a minute I felt like I could handle it and I sped up, pulling the tip upwards to gain height. Again I felt the pulse of exhilaration beating inside me and I put on a little more speed, going as fast as James was. Smirking, I flung the nose down, attempting the dive that he had performed. I wobbled a little and pulled the broom up some, realizing I had almost pushed things too far, and touched down in a less dramatic fashion, shaking from excitement. The others were standing still when I returned to them , watching me with various looks on their faces. Mom's, delighted, Dad's, confused, my cousins', beaming, Ginny's and Harry's more bemused than anything.

"Dudley," said Harry with amazement, "you got yourself a witch."

I grinned.


	2. Chapter 1: In which Toon gets a letter

**A/N:** I own nothing, in fact a large portion of this chapter (the letter) comes straight from the books. Thank you JKR!

Chapter One  
In which Toon gets a letter

The letter came a couple years later. I'd been sent out to get the mail one Saturday and was accosted by a grumpy-looking owl with a letter in its beak. I stared at it and it stared back. As it stood on the mailbox, I was hesitant to approach and retrieve the mail. After a moment, it flapped its wings at me irritably and I remembered what Harry had said about wizards using owls for communication. Thinking the letter must be from the Potters, I carefully reached out to take it. The owl let go as I grabbed it and flew off with a huff. I was left to examine the letter.

Careful, emerald green cursive stained the parchment of the envelope. With a jolt, I realized it was specifically addressed to me.

_Ms. P. Dursley_

_Upstairs Bedroom with a Window_

_4. Privet Drive,_

_Little Whinging,_

_SURREY_

Excited, I hurriedly grabbed the other mail from the mailbox and rushed inside. Dad was in the living room, watching TV as he had last night's leftover pizza for breakfast. I could see Mom glancing at him over the newspaper from her spot next to him, doubtlessly debating over whether or not she should encourage him to eat more healthily. Absent-mindedly, I sat down on Dad's other side and put the letters on the coffee table in front of him, keeping the letter from the owl for myself. I gazed at it and Dad, noticing, asked, "What's that?"

"A letter for me," I responded, showing him. His eyes widened and he cast a glance towards my mother, whose brows had disappeared beneath her bangs. Turning back to me, he grinned.

"Open it," he encouraged.

I did, and found two sheets of parchment, written on in the same careful green ink. I read the first aloud.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmistress: Felicity Umbridge

_ (Secretary of Dep't. of Education, Warlock, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Ms. Dursley,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Brice Fischer

Brice Fischer

Deputy Headmaster

"I really wish I had paid more attention to all this when Harry was doing it," Dad said with a sigh, but he was grinning almost as much as my mother was – which said a lot, as I was afraid she was about to break her face.

Now that I thought of it, my own face was stretched out with happiness as well. I eagerly proceeded to the next sheet of parchment, reading it aloud as well.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of _WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic_

by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory _

by Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_

by Emeric Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

"I'm going to get a wand," I said slowly. "Merlin," I exclaimed, something I'd picked up from the Potters, "I'm really going to be studying magic?" I looked to my parents for confirmation that I wasn't crazy. They nodded, smiling at me.

"You're going to do amazing things, honey," my Mom told me. "This is an opportunity I would have done anything for when I was your age."

Mom was a Squib, and my heart gave a pang for her. Part of me wished I could bring her with me for her sake, and part of me wished I could bring her with me for my sake. Something told me, though, that Hogwarts did not have a custom of accommodating parents, and that her job as a teacher herself would hardly allow it anyway.

So instead I told her, "I'll definitely make the most of it." Looking back at the letter, I added, "I'm a little disappointed that I can't have a broom though."

"I think we might have trouble affording one anyway, darling. We're well-to-do but first year of Hogwarts always is expensive," she responded. I accepted that.

"We should call your Aunt and Uncle," Dad said. "We can all go together. Lord knows we'll need their help."

I went to the home phone and dialed the proper number, hoping my Aunt would answer.

"HELLO?"

My hopes were not disappointed. Ginny had grown up a witch and, even after several years of owning a phone, spoke louder than was necessary, not quite understanding how these things worked.

"Hey Aunt Ginny."

"OH, TOONS! HOW ARE YOU?"

"I'm doing wonderful, actually. Guess what!"

"WHAT?"

"I've just received a letter."

"A HOGWARTS LETTER?!"

Her excitement was beginning to hurt my ears, but I grinned. "Yes! No need to speak so loudly though."

"Sorry, sorry. These telephone things… Anyway, that's great news! We saw it coming, but I'd kind of forgotten."

"Yeah, me too. Though strange things do happen around me sometimes. Anyway, Dad wanted to know if we could go shopping for school supplies together. I think he's nervous."

From the kitchen, he protested, "I am not nervous!"

I laughed and whispered, "He is though."

Ginny chuckled. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Why don't we pick you up next Saturday? We like to get it done early."

"Hang on a sec, I'll check." Pressing the receiver into my collarbone, I said over my shoulder, "Are we free next Saturday?" My parents nodded, so I brought the phone back up to my ear. "Yeah, that would be perfect. What time?"

"Around 9 in the morning. We'll make a play date out of it."

"Awesome! See you then then!"

"Definitely! Congrats, Toony."

"Thanks. Bye!"

"Goodbye, sweetie."

I sat myself down next to my parents again with a grin. "Saturday at eight." They nodded half-heartedly, watching the news with concern. A series of freak accidents had begun several months ago, and another link in the chain was being reported. A bridge had broken clean in half during rush hour, leaving dozens dead. The city had just had the bridge inspected a week before, and no damage or weaknesses had been found, which meant foul play. I felt so sad every time I saw these news reports.

"Why does this stuff have to happen?" I wondered out loud.

"Because there are bad people out there," Mom answered, worry tinging her voice.

I filled the days between then and Saturday by thinking of things I could tell my friends. They would want to know why I was changing schools, why I hadn't said anything earlier, where I was going, and myriad other things. I had never been directly told, but I understood that I had to lie.

As I always did when I was stumped, I turned to my mother for advice.

"Tell them we're sending you to an all-girls boarding school because we caught you kissing a boy," was her suggestion.

"_Mom!_"

"What? It's a good cover-up, explains why you'll be home on breaks, and it earns you respect points for prowess for boys without any of the actual gross kissy kissy." She made a face.

She had a point, and I agreed to use the alibi.

This became a problem with my best friend, however. I had her over for a sleepover on Wednesday because I knew she should be the first to know.

"So I won't be going back to our school this year, Sophie," I confessed to her as we settled in to gossip for the night.

"What?" she gasped, her green eyes flashing and her mouth popping open. "Why not?"

"Well, it's a bit embarrassing…"

She smirked. "Now I'm curious. You _have_ to tell me!" She threatened me with a pillow.

"Okay, okay, well… um, my parents are sending me to an all-girls boarding school because the caught me, well, you know… with a boy"

I almost panicked when she raised a disbelieving brow. "Toon, you haven't told me about any boys lately. You definitely have told me about how much you value 'twoo wuv' and how you want your first kiss to be when you get married, though."

"He was cute!" I said, trying to seem defensive.

Sophie crossed her arms and stared at me for a solid minute, a pout on her face, finally, she sighed. "Oooookay, I believe you. I'm gonna miss you though!"

I sighed too, out of sadness as much as relief. "I'll write to you every week. Every day!"

She hugged me. "And I'll write back!" Then she looked at me and grinned. "So, on the subject of boys…"

I pretended to groan and hit her with a pillow.

Later that night, after Sophie had fallen asleep, blonde hair draping over her back like a blanket, I crept downstairs to get some water. I knew I wouldn't get in trouble for being up at ten, but I might be slightly reprimanded, and wanted to avoid that, so I was as quiet as possible. However, after taking great care to sneak past my parents' room, I soon realized they were still downstairs. I sat on a step and listened to their hushed voices.

"There are other schools," my mother was saying. "She could go to one of them. Bad things are happening here, Dudley."

"Harry's gonna catch whoever's doing this. Harry and all the other Aurors. I trust them."

"Don't you remember what it was like, before?"

"Yes. It was terrifying. I had to go into hiding with my parents. But things aren't the same now. Harry can fix this, the same way he fixed things before."

"I'm still worried."

"I know, baby. I know. I'll tell you what. If things get worse over the next couple years, we'll send her to Salem."

I'd heard enough only to be confused, but the sound of my parents kissing drove me back up to my room. I was sure they were talking about me, but what did they mean bad things were happening? Did they want me to not go to Hogwarts? Either way, I decided to think like my father and have faith in Uncle Harry and whatever he was doing.


	3. Chapter 2: In which Toon's a good sister

**A/N:** I'm fairly happy with this chapter. A big thank you to everyone who have faved, reviewed, and followed! It tickles me pink every time I see the numbers go up and read what you have to say. I'm sorry this chapter was so long coming. It's hard to make myself sit down and write. Reader AZ: as you'll see in the description and in this chapter, Toon is named after her grandmother, Petunia.

Chapter 2

In which Toon is a good sister

When I woke up the next morning, the sun was shining and I realized how late I had slept – it was nine in the morning. Sophie was still sleeping. Though my age, she acted a lot like the "big kids," which included sleeping habits. People in our class said we were the two most mature people out of them all, but while Sophie was popular, I was not. I was too serious for them, they said. Too logical. Not that they ever said this to my face, of course. I had a habit of hanging around corners to see what I could hear. They would wonder amongst themselves why Sophie spent so much time with me. It didn't bother me too much; there was no malice in it, just genuine curiosity. That Sophie and my other friends liked me was enough for my self-confidence.

Reluctantly, I peeled the covers off my body, piling them on top of Sophie. The first thing I noticed was how unusually cold it was. Though it was the middle of June, it felt like a winter's day. I considered grabbing the blanket back and bundling up before going downstairs but couldn't in good conscience leave my friend shivering as she slept. So instead, I rushed downstairs in my PJs, eager to get some breakfast, which I could smell wafting in through the open door. Pancakes, if my nose was anything to go by, probably a special treat since I had company.

I made sure to tread lightly on the steps over Michael's room on the off chance that he was still in bed, then reached the foot of the stairs. Walking into the kitchen, my eyes confirmed what my nose suspected; Mom was drizzling syrup over a buttery stack of pancakes.

"Good morning, sweetie," she said without looking, "I had a feeling you'd be up around now." Indeed, she handed me a hot-off-the-pan plateful just as I entered the kitchen.

Mother descended from Seers. Her family had Squibbed out, as the wizarding world put it, but the magic was still there; just not enough of it. In my mother, it manifested itself in an almost impossible perceptiveness and intuition. "I just had a feeling" was a perfectly legitimate explanation for my mother to give for her behavior or statements.

I sat down at the table with my plate and dug in. Mom turned off the stovetop and started to wash the pan.

"You're not going to make a stack for Sophie?" I asked, brows furrowed.

"Oh, I will. But I don't think she'll be up for a couple more hours."

I couldn't tell if she just had a feeling or if she'd come to expect it from past experience, but either way she was probably right. As she looked up at me, a funny look came across her face.

"Have you, ah, noticed anything different lately?" she asked.

"…No?"

"Well, we need to get you some training bras."

I almost snapped my neck looking down. Sure enough, in the cold my nipples poked through the thin cotton of my pajamas, drawing attention to some newly forming lumps attached to my torso.

My father had the misfortune of walking in just as she was speaking. His head, too, whipped to look, before quickly looking away. "Good God," he muttered, "she's only eleven…"

"Good morning to you too," I said, not wanting to talk to him about the issue. I was sure my cheeks were going red. "So why is it so cold in here, anyway?"

"Air conditioner broke," Dad said ruefully. "It won't go any warmer than this, but it's so hot out this is preferable."

I pulled my knees up to my chest, which had dual benefits of covering my small buds and of keeping me warmer, and continued my meal. Dad pulled the eggs out of the fridge and was about to open the cabinets when Mom said, "I have the pan right here, just washed it too." He took it from her and kissed her.

"Good morning, Jen. I haven't said that yet, have I?"

"Don't worry about it. Good morning!" She kissed his cheek.

I pretended to retch into my glass of milk, but privately I thought the pair was quite cute, and wistfully hoped that someday I could have the same thing they did. Boys were a new and unchartered realm for me, but whereas a year ago today I would not have had any interest, I now had a good deal of it. I certainly was going to miss Tyler Hartford, that I knew.

Sophie came down some time later to Dad reading the paper with me looking over his shoulder at the dining room table and Mom, true to form, putting the finishing touches on a stack of pancakes. She took the plate and sat down. "Thanks Mrs. Dursley!"

"My pleasure honey, my pleasure."

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!" I teased as she took her place next to me. Looking around at the empty seats at the table, I frowned. "Where are Michael and Matthew?"

"They had a playdate at the neighbor's today," Mom said. I shrugged and turned back to Sophie.

"When is your mom coming to get you?"

"Noon, sharp she said."

I looked at the clock. 10:50. "You better get a move-on then." Mom placed a glass of milk in front of her.

As she ate I stared at her, feeling an unusual pang of jealousy. Her hair, though messy from last night's sleep, was golden, really golden. Not just blonde, but a bright, almost yellow color, and it shone without any effort on her part. It was ultra-smooth, not just devoid of stray hairs but silk to touch. Her hair had no annoying kinks, just a slight curl at the tips and that only made her more beautiful. And it was long, hanging at her hips.

I couldn't have been more different, I thought sadly. A mess of black curls. Chin-length. I'd tried growing it long but it got in the way when I played and it looked like a triangle when it rested on my shoulders. Not dull, but certainly no shine to it. The only thing I could take pride in was that it wasn't frizzy, which was strange for such curly hair. With a sigh I told myself that at eleven years old it didn't even matter. I'd worry about it once it became important.

When Sophie had finished her plate, I took it and put it in the sink then moved to hug my mother, saying, "The pancakes were delicious Mom, thanks!" I noticed, however, that something was off. The water was running but my mother stood at the sink unmoving, just staring at the steady flow of water, not washing dishes. "Mom?" She looked at me through glazed eyes, finally turning her head. "Are you okay Mom?"

She nodded and said, hesitantly, "Yes – I – I'm going to – go check on the boys." And with that she put down the dishtowel she'd been clutching and fled the house. I looked at Dad, who shrugged for Sophie's benefit but was plainly worried.

Getting the memo, I took Sophie up to my room, saying "She's just paranoid that they skinned their knees or something." As Sophie disappeared into my bathroom I said, "You've got a whole hour to get ready so you take your time." As soon as I heard the shower running I threw on some real clothes and bounded downstairs. Dad seemed to have the same idea, as he was by the door pulling on some sneakers when I got there. Together we walked to the neighbor's house. They were a muggle family and had just recently moved in, so we were trying to make them feel at home, but the look on Mom's face gave me a shivering feeling that maybe it had been a bad idea.

When we got to the front door it was already open. Dad looked like he was feeling sick but we entered anyway.

"Get these f-freaks out of here!" the neighbor lady was shouting, her face red and covered in tears of frustration. Next to her on the floor were two unfazed and decidedly purple children. Their skin, not their clothes. They were playing with each other, not concerned with their skin color. As if on the other side of a battle field, my mother stood calmly, her arms around Michael and Matthew, who were clutching her hands, looking terrified. "They're p-purple! I don't know what those boys did but I never want to see them again!" the woman continued to sputter.

"Come on, boys," Mom said to my brothers, leading them out of the house, without so much as a word to the indignant lady she left behind her. Seeing my father and I, she smiled serenely, taking Dad's hand. We returned home and I went up to my room to check on Sophie, who was still in the shower. However I heard a loud thump come from downstairs so I took the steps down three at a time and rushed through the kitchen into the living room, where my father was helping my mother off the floor.

"What happened?" I asked, shocked.

With a grunt, Dad said, "She ainted. And she's burning up, feels like she has a fever." He pulled her into his arms, but Mom protested, squirming.

"No, I'm fine, I just got a little dizzy."

"Take a nap with me, then, just for my peace of mind."

My mother grudgingly conceded.

"Sorry, Petunia," said Dad, falling back on the name on my birth certificate as he always did when stressed. "Could you watch Michael and Matthew for a bit?" I nodded as he carried her up the stairs to their bedroom. Then I turned to the boys. They stared at me, Michael with his thumb in his mouth and Matthew clutching a teddy bear.

"So which of you turned them purple?" I asked with a grin.

After exchanging glances with each other, failing to control the grins on their faces though they clearly tried, Michael said, "Meeee." I gave him a high five.

"Next time try something they won't notice right away," I advised him. I took the boys up into my room where I could keep an eye on them. Sophie was sitting on my bed brushing her hair.

"Hi!" she said with a smile. "I got out and you were gone!"

"Sorry," I told her, "I had to go check on something." She accepted it with a shrug.

"It's okay. What are you two doing here?" She adopted her baby voice for my little brothers.

"Dudley and Jen are napping," declared 8-year-old Matthew. Any time he was outside our parents speaking range he used their first names; a precursor act of defiance. I shuddered to think what his teenage years would be like.

Sophie did most of the work keeping them occupied. Until the doorbell rang I was able to read a book in peace, but then her mother was there to get her and so I lost my baby sitter.

"You got everything?" I asked her.

"Yeah, if not I can get it next time," she said, flapping her hand at me. She hesitated before walking out the door, where her mother was waiting in the car. "You were telling the truth about switching schools, right?"

"Yes," I said dumbly, staring at her nose. But she knew I was lying, and left without another word.

By Saturday, Mom had recovered from her fever, Sophie was not speaking to me, Michael was having more magical outbursts, the air conditioning was fixed, and three new freak accidents colored the news channels. The Potters, as promised, came at 8 AM sharp, but we Dursleys were in a state of disarray, still scrambling to get everything together.

"Oh, I can't find my wallet," Dad moaned.

"Accio wallet!" said Harry with a wave of his wand, and the wallet zoomed into the room and hovered under Dad's nose. Even though Dad was on good terms with Harry and Ginny and seemed now to have not just one but two magical children, sometimes magic still made him uncomfortable. He swiped the wallet out of the air, grumbling his thanks.

When we were finally ready to go, Ginny got out a small pouch. "Where's the fireplace? About time you lot learned about Floo." She looked down to see Michael tugging on her robes – I still thought wizarding robes looked strange, but I supposed I'd have to get used to it.

"I don't want the flu, Aunt Ginny," he said earnestly. She laughed.

"Not that flu, sweetie. Look, this is Floo powder." She opened the pouch for us to look at. The stuff was dull grey and, as the name would suggest, powdery. "You throw it in the fireplace and when the flames turn green you walk in and say exactly where it is you want to go. And the fire won't hurt you, either."

Dad led us into the living room, where the fireplace was. Harry grinned at him.

"Remember the last time this fireplace was used for Flu?"

Ginny chuckled. "Sorry about that, we Weasleys never quite understood your Aunt and Uncle."

This was another story Dad had told us over and over again, the time Aunt Ginny's crazy family blew up their fireplace. Hopefully this time it would go better.

Mom started up a fire, and Ginny threw on a handful of the powder she had brought. I watched with interest as the fire turned green. I liked the color; it was like jade, and the flames somehow seemed to shimmer, entrancing me.

"Harry, would you demonstrate?" Ginny asked, batting her eyelashes.

"Anything for that simper, darling," he joked. Striding confidently into the flames, he painstakingly enunciated "Diagon Alley." The flames flared around him and then he was gone, making my brothers gasp.

"Okay, kids, you next. Don't forget to keep your elbows tucked in tight, now, and that goes for you lot too." She looked pointedly at me and my family.

"Diagon Alley!" "Diagon Alley." "Diagon Alley!" And the Potter children, too, were gone.

Mom took the initiative of going next. With as much confidence as Uncle Harry had had she walked straight into the flames without flinching, naming her destination, and she too disappeared. Aunt Ginny then looked at Dad expectantly. He fidgeted and approached the fire hesitantly, stopping just outside the hearth. I thought about sticking my hand in to show him it was safe, but thought against it, not wanting to risk it. Luckily Ginny had a similar thought, and stuck her foot in from where she stood.

"See?" she said. "It won't hurt you, so it can't hurt to try."

Encouraged, Dad took a few steps into the hearth, carefully saying the words he had to.

"You can go next, Toony."

I hesitated. "Can more than one go at once?" I asked.

"Well, yes," she answered, surprised by my question. "As long as they hold on tight."

"I'll take my brothers with me, then."

"Oh, that's okay, I was going to bring them with me."

I considered. I didn't want them to leave my sight and get muddled up somehow with this Flu powder business, but my aunt was far more capable in this respect than I. I conceded defeat and went through the fire, but not before telling my brothers to relax and I'd see them soon. I walked into the fireplace, hoping to emulate my mother's confidence and saying as clearly as I could, "Diagon Alley."

I gasped as I felt myself jerked around, spinning and swerving. I could see grates, snapshots of what it was like inside other people's living rooms, flying past. It was sickening and made me dizzy, so I shut my eyes. At last, I slid onto solid ground, lying on my back dazed for a moment. I soon got up and brushed myself off, looking around and seeing the Potters and my parents with relief. We were in a sort of plaza, lined with grates for people to arrive from. Dad seized me and started to brush me off. "First time's always hard," James said with an impishly delighted grin, taking in my green tinge.

"Oh, shut it," I snapped.

Mom hurried over to me and whispered in my ear. "While we're here, we should check Madame Malkin's for training bras."

"Mom!" I reprimanded her. "Can we talk about this later?"

"Of course honey, of course." She didn't look apologetic.

At that moment, Ginny came through with Michael and Matthew. "Well then," she said, unruffled, "shall we?"

But as I turned around I saw a fair-haired man clearly staring at our group, especially my uncle. He had a beautiful woman on his arm and a boy who looked close to my age at his side. The others noticed my gaze and turned to look.

"Potter?" said the man.


End file.
